Ground War: The Crusade for Naggaroth
by Le Dark Wolf
Summary: Stretched beyond its limits, the Imperium of Man struggles to maintain its galactic borders. On the distant world of Naggaroth, a Tau-backed insurgency beckons the Immortal Emperor's retribution. Witness 'low intensity conflict' in the 41st millennium...


_"It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die._

_Yet even in His deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse._

_To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods."_

[Act I: Cease and Repent]

**+++Location: Sword Wind Peninsula**  
><strong>+++Third Cycle of Local Conditions<strong>

There was no mercy for the misguided. As soon as the Imperial Navy had pulled itself from that neither-dimension known as warp-space, the fleet had begun to put the world to the torch. Zhou felt as if he could smell the burnt soil through his re-breather. The squad leader unconsciously shifted his weight a bit, as he felt the g-forces pull upon him from the Valkyrie's descent. He checked his machine spirited personal display system strapped to his forearm. With a grimace of annoyance, Zhou then looked to his men. All those years of harsh training and sacrifice had robbed them all of youth. This was it. Fifteen minutes, in exactly fifteen minutes, they will be the first boots on the ground.

Zhou 'the Red Wolf' hailed from neighboring Cathay Prime. 'Neighboring' being relative, as the planet belonged to a whole other system. When the human world of Naggaroth established trade relations with the xeno empire of Tau, there could only be one outcome: Heresy. Retribution came in the form of a taskforce, sent to reclaim this rebellious world. As the Imperium of Man is always at war, only a meager force could have been spared. The taskforce consisted of two guard elements: the Cadian 413th Shock Troopers, the 1st Emperor's Volunteer Army, a Space Marine company from the Burning Hawks Chapter, backed by air and space power from the Imperial Navy. Zhou himself belonged to the 1st Emperor's Volunteer Army, the first Imperial Guard regiment raised from the Emperor's Liberation Planetary Defense Force on Cathay Prime. Despite Cathay's Prime's long history of civil strife and invasion, this will be the first action of the 'Liberation Army' on foreign territory.

"Disembark on my command!" had yelled the Commissar.

Zhou made a mental note to keep an eye out on the zealot. He was a junior commissar, and already the man believed himself to be ordained by the Emperor himself. Junior Commissar Dmitry, his full name deemed classified to the men he 'inspired'. Zhou swore the man was Vostroyan from the accent. Whatever the Commissar's background, it was beyond him for the moment. Something struck the Valkyrie and sent their entire existence into an insane spin. The safety harness seemed to have been digging into his flesh. A canteen went flying. The squad leader felt blood drain from his brain. Was death about to claim him? Fear tugged at his heart. Someone had soiled their pants. Zhou wanted to scream, but he had no voice. Then there was darkness.

"Disembark, disembark, GET OFF MY SHIP YOU DOGS! FOR THE EMPEROR!"

He woke to the voice of the Commisar.

"We're being assaulted!" screamed a grenadier from Squad 'A'.

"Stop being a coward and return fire, or I'll make an example of you!"

It took some effort not to yank the re-breather off. Command implied that the enemy would use chemical weapons. He had tasted blood. Pain wracked the squad leader's body. Zhou would have to deal with these 'minor' discomforts for the time being. The hatch to the Valkyrie was blown wide open. It was strange. Gravity felt wrong. They were all leaning towards the side, as if… they crash landed sideways. A hail of lasfire smashed into the cargo hold. His unit scrambled to find what cover they could, behind reinforced supply crates, and ridges within the craft. Those who could not, or were too slow had been mercilessly cut to bits. While lasfire did nothing to Astarte, these same weapons turned men into crimson slush. Some poor soul's dismembered finger flew by Zhou's head as the squad leader struggled to drag himself to safety. Despite returning fire sporadically, the situation was apocalyptic. Not merely because of the dire circumstances, but because of the scenery itself.

'Holy Terra' Zhou couldn't whispered.

Outside of the broken Valkyrie was a vast jungle, molded dark brown with fires burning in the distance. In the sky, brighter than the orbiting sun was a dying vessel. A Lunar Class Cruiser, her starboard on fire and bow smashed in, was rapidly descending from the heavens. The death cry it roared was like a thousand muted whimpers from a ravaged maiden.

"Sergeant!" Dmitry turned towards him. The squad leader leveled his gaze towards the Commisar.

"What in the Emperor's name are you doing? Get your men in order-"A stray shot from enemy lasfire blew the head off the nearby grenadier interrupting the Commisar for a brief second. He resumed a second later as if the grenade launcher wielding soldier had always been dead. "Get your men in order and push these heretics back!"

It was a painful matter to bark and relay orders. Every joint in his body ached. His vision clouded from the sweat produced under the re-breather. All it took was a simple mistake; a minor moment of incompetence; a second of laxity, and Zhou would be cast to the warp. Lesser men would put their faith in the Emperor, but not the squad leader. Nothing drove him further, not the Golden Throne, not to Party; than the contempt of death. Zhou took his place next to the Commisar, arming himself with the fallen Grenadier's weapon. He then took stock of the situation and rallied his men.

Originally, Zhou's drop squad consisted of ten men and the commissar: two fireteams consisting of Squads 'A' and 'B', a Vox Caster, and himself. Three men from Squad 'A' were dead. Their remains mixed in with the Valkyrie's door gunner. Everyone else, save the Vox Caster had been more or less unscathed. The Vox Caster, the man that was responsible for the radio system itself was alive. It was just that his legs no longer worked. The man was paralyzed. That left five guardsmen to the squad leader's disposal. It was a desperate situation. As they remained pinned inside the downed aircraft, the enemies could easily envelope and destroy them. They had to leave the vessel and perform a tactical withdraw.

Zhou would go first. He would lead by example. It was a rather simple plan, but the pinned soldiers of the Imperium had very little room to maneuver. They would pop smoke to give themselves cover. Then the squad leader would take the fully manned 'B' and charge forward. It seemed that the Valkyrie's 'graceful' landing had created an arced trench of sorts. From there, they could provide covering fire while 'A' rejoined them. The unit would take cover there and further entrench themselves if needed, then slowly attempt to withdraw or vox in for air support. Squad 'B' had voiced for the option to request air support earlier, but that was denied by inference, perhaps stemming from the crashed Valkyrie.

He threw a deployed smoke canister and charged forward. The heated gas should have been able to mask their heat signatures and disrupt enemy optics. Murphy's Law was always in effect however. What could go wrong simply would, and badly to boot. By the time Zhou had hit the dirt and started digging in the makeshift trench, two of Squad 'B' had been dead. Since 'A' consisted of its only survivor and the Commisar, it was up to 'B' to move the Caster. If Zhou had left the Vox Caster to Dmitry, there was the very real possibility that the Commisar might have simply executed the wounded man. Instead, a member of 'B' was responsible for moving the Caster. Despite carrying the paralyzed soldier to safety, his would-be savior was caught by enemy lasfire. A comrade of his had tried to pull the wounded man to safety, but was also cut down in the process. Their remains dangled in the air for a bit, before crumpling onto the burnt dirt.

The squad leader and the survivor tried to return fire in desperation. A quick second of miscommunication had furthered the Commisar who led 'A' into charging to join Zhou. The only survivor of 'A' died the moment he stepped foot outside the smashed air-transport. By some unforeseen power however, the Commisar survived.

"DIG! DIG YOU DOG! DIG!"

It was a ridiculous situation. Between frantic shooting and digging, the survivors fought tooth and nail for a chance at survival. Only the Commisar remained calm, firing one handed in laughably bold defiance with a bolt pistol. Zhou wasn't sure if he or his comrades killed anything. They returned lasfire to muzzle flashes. There was nothing on the Vox save interference and the echo of panicking voices. The fog of war clouded them, threatening to strangle Zhou and his men.

And then it was over.

Like an army of ants, the enemy, whomever they were, dissipated into the burning canopy of the jungle. The firefight died down, almost too quickly. From whence the enemy came, they have fled. What remained was Zhou, his two men, the paralyzed Vox Caster, and the Commisar. The squad leader felt a pang of guilt for surviving while the comrades he led had died so horribly their deaths. But what had chased the unseen enemy away? Something soared above them. Zhou, the bloodied 'Red Wolf' looked up. Metal birds of vengeance flew in formation above the battleground. Many of them were Valkyrie transport crafts. Reinforcements were being flown in. It was then that the channel cleared and a feminine voice spoke out.

_"Second wave incoming...Ground War...has... expanded..."_

The Commisar then executed the paralyzed Vox-Caster for being useless.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

This is my first foray into the nightmare universe of the 41st millennium. Instead of concentrating on the almighty Space Marines, I decided to keep the story grounded in the Imperial Guard. The main character doesn't convey much in terms of personality or speech. This is done on purpose. As the main character is somewhat vague, I think the reader can fit into his shoes and experience the story 'on the ground'. I plan on future chapters to switch to other perspectives, including the foul Aliens and their traitor cohorts. Also, please leave me a review. This way I can be inspired to write another chapter or two.


End file.
